Page 36 of Ruin Me Sweetly

“Not like that,” I corrected quickly, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades, softening my voice back down. “I mean I want to be the only thing you ever compare anything to again.”

Better. True, if inelegantly delivered.

Her laugh came out breathless, disbelieving. “That’s… actually worse, Luke.”

“Noted,” I murmured, smiling against her skin. “I’ll work on my delivery.”

Because for her, I would.

I smoothed her hair away from her face, gently rocking my body above her as I watched for any signs of discomfort. But there was only pleasure now—not only from my cock buried deep in her ass, but from her own hand, still busy playing with that beautiful pussy beneath us.

The need to claim every inch of her was like an unstoppable force. It wasn’t a whim. The need ran soul-deep. I covered her body with mine.

“I love everything about you, Bella,” I whispered close to her ear. “Everything.”

I could only see a portion of her face, but her eyes closed firmly as she processed my words. It left me exposed, like a raw nerve on an operating table. Seconds stretched into something closer to an eternity.

“Oh, Luke,” she said, her voice low and unsteady. “I was going to wait…”

Aw, fuck. No. Whatever it was, the answer was just fucking no.

“I’m pregnant.”

I stopped breathing, staring at her for several long seconds.

Pregnant.

The word landed somewhere inside me and refused to settle.

This was what I had wanted. What I’d planned for. What I’d convinced myself would complete the life I was building around her.

A child.

Our child.

My chest tightened so violently it almost hurt. I should have smiled. Laughed. Kissed her until neither of us could breathe.

Instead, one thought cut through everything else.

She could still leave me.

My stomach turned, because I knew exactly how much of this life had been engineered. The house. The security. The wedding. The way I’d inserted myself into every corner of her world until walking away from me would mean dismantling half the life she’d rebuilt.

I’d never been entirely honest with her, and now she was carrying the one thing I’d wanted most.

My child. Our child.

At forty-four, after years of believing that particular dream belonged to someone else, it was actually happening.

I swallowed hard.

“You’re pregnant?”

It was barely a whisper.

She nodded against the pillow.

And that was it. The future I’d spent so long calculating had suddenly become something I could lose.